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Resignation Accepted
"Hot Rod, you're going to want to see this." After last night's shenanigans, the group ended up at one of Nyon's back alley clinics. The femme who runs the clinic is not without skill or training, but she /is/ without a license, which means that her practice is very illegal, and her supplies are very limited. That's where Hot Rod comes in. He's helped her -- and others -- stay supplied, which means that when something like last night happens, he's got some place to go. His dents have been hammered out; damage has been repaired. His paint's still scraped up, but it's a roguish kind of scuff, right? Right. The femme in question pokes her head into the back room where he and Arsenal are refueling before heading out. She brings a datapad which carries the latest out of the NPD. Hot Rod reads, and laughs. "/Mastermind/. What a waste pipe." He tosses the datapad down and glances over at Arsenal. "So, having any second thoughts?" "Constantly," she answers quickly, glad to have a moment to speak! Since the whole ordeal last night she's lapsed into a kind of silence, answering only when spoken to. Arse is still a little embarrassed with herself for how she acted once they were in the tunnels but then, too, being one of the S.C.U. is clearly wearing on her. Ever since the tunnels she's attempted, in vain, to rub the bold white letters from her shoulders. As a truck they are displayed on her hood, but in her robot form one should reads 'N.P.D.' and the other 'S.C.U.' "Ever since I joined the force, or more like I was made to join... anyway, whatever. I knew it was wrong. The stuff they had us do... please, Hot Rod, you have to believe me. I hated every moment of it and each time we did a raid or made an arrest it only got worse. The law shouldn't be like that. It should be about keeping the peace, to stand up for those that can't stand on their own, to keep things fair. Stuff has always been bad under chief Breach but it's only gotten worse when Patdown was given more and more command. The stuff he's said... I always wanted to leave, but where would I go?" Hot Rod smiles behind a sip from his slightly sludgy and admittedly low quality energon cube. Rebel life: freedom is great, but the food sucks. He leans forward, the cube held between his hands, and considers Arsenal's answer. "I believe you," he says, proving himself less a great judge of character than all-too-willing to trust when he should be cautious. "Are you willing to go on record with that? I need to answer them. I won't just let them lie to people. But it would be better if you were willing to say that. I'm easy to dismiss without that." Arsenal falls silent there as she considers. There really is no going back for her, not now. Even if Patdown and the S.C.U. were abolished, every cop on Cybertron might see her as willing to turn on her own. Like the others in her former unit, she was built for war. Without that, what else is there for her to do besides law enforcement? Primus, what is she going to do with herself now?!? Arse chews her lip as she thinks and rubs more aggressively at her shoulder. She's in it now. No turning back. Truth is, this is what she wanted, right? "Of course. Of *course*," she restates, far more certain sounding the second time. "Anything for you," she chirps easily, flushes and then attempts to clarify. "For the cause? It's no secret to them that I was more, ah, sympathetic to what you were doing. They could try and use that against you, but yes. Hot Rod, *anything*. Anything you need. I want..." What does she want? Well, she knows but it's also a hard thing to admit, especially to the one she would have to ask it of. "Even after I was a part of that? You think I could help? I kind of expected to be put in chains or something," Arse laughs nervously. Watching as she rubs again at her shoulder, Hot Rod sets his cube to the side and starts digging through the clinic's supplies. He seems to have an awful good idea where things are actually kept in here. The noise attracts the medic's attention, but rather than outrage, she just asks him what he's looking for: "Any paint?" he asks, pointing at Arsenal's shoulder. While the medic checks to see if she has anything of the right color, Hot Rod just grins. "Want to get those off?" Hot Rod takes a seat again, facing her with a relatively serious expression. "Chains are kind of against our motto." They don't have a motto. If they did, it would probably just be 'FREEDOM' though, so maybe that's still true. "Yeah, I think you can help. I think telling people what /really/ happened yesterday -- the way they wouldn't stand down, they wouldn't accept surrender, they went after innocents and were going to kill them--. I think people need to know that. And if you're willing to tell it, they might listen. But it closes a lot of doors for you." Boy, does she ever! Want to erase that bit of her past, that is, with those letters. Arsenal looks pleased as she yanks off those shoulders! A lot of her outer-self seems to be modular though, housing all kind of compartments, like those shoulders. When they are off, there is a whole bevy of weaponry underneath. "*Thank* *you*," she sighs dreamily. Her hero! Very literally in this case. "I know, sir... Hot Rod, that it would mean closing ALL the doors, really. Not that I really have any I can go back and open at this point anyway... truth is, if you left me on the street then the S.C.U. would find me and put me down." She sounds very sure of that. So far she's not begged to stay or even expected to be saved, so that could well be her fate still. Humbled as she is, she does have some pride to not impose herself on Hot Rod or his cause. "There's no going back there, not that I *want* to. It *killed* me every time we'd raid an apartment or rough up a transient. I'd rather Reload shot me in the street than ever go back to that." Arsenal then pales and her shoulders slump a lot as she recalls something. "Primus, I almost shot her," she sinks further as she looks down to her (big) hands. "That little one... Hondo shot her!" That's coming back to her now. She looks up. "Is she alright? Do you know?" "Just Hot Rod, no sir," says Hot Rod with a lift of his hands and a quick grin. The medic leaves the paints set out for them and then takes the datapad they are no longer reading to head elsewhere. "Thanks!" he calls after her, then reaches out to fiddle with the jars. Meant to repair small injuries rather than do a full repaint, there is not a /lot/ of it, but there's enough to erase the letters from her shoulders. "Swivel looked like she was okay the last I saw, but I'll make sure. I'd like you to give a statement, if you're willing. And since that does close all the other doors, if you still want to help -- if you want to help the people who /really/ need it, we could use someone like you. Especially if the NPD keeps after us. It might mean standing against some friends of yours, though." "Sorry, sir. It's something that was drilled into us from training days. Hot Rod, I mean! Hot Rod. Hot Rod," she says more smoothly the second time. Saying it again even makes Arsenal smile, which helps to lessen the panic about Swivel. "They aren't friends, Hot Rod. We worked together but they never..." Arse shakes her head and looks down. "I should have stopped them. Stood up to them on my own. There were times I wanted to but..." She's a big strong bot yet there were so many times she felt so very, very small. "Hondo once stepped on a minibot just because he wanted to. It never made it to a report. I... they were *never* my friends, please believe me Hot Rod." Her head hangs again. After admitting that, well, she's understanding should Hot Rod wish to reconsider what he just offered. "I'd like that. To actually *help*." Maybe even atone a little. "Of /course/ he did." Hot Rod seethes. His hands curl to fists with a creak of metal as they clench. "They think they are untouchable." Implied is a 'we'll show them' that he's not quite cliche enough to mutter. BUT HE SURE THINKS IT. Hot Rod works past the anger by reaching for the paint and opening it, but no sooner has he does so than he stops. "Actually, it will have more effect if we can record this while you still look like a member of the NPD, won't it." Closed it goes again -- sorry, Arsenal! -- and he uncurls his hands to flatten them on his legs. "Then we'll repaint it, and you can have a new start with us." He looks up and gives Arsenal a faint smile. "Your spark's in the right place." Arsenal has to earn it. She gets that. She respects that. Honestly, it's everything she dreamed of but never expected. She smiles as she realizes that 'all of this' is happening, though she tries to contain it. She looms, sorry, as she reaches for and reattaches her shoulders. "Understood, si-... Hot Rod," she corrects herself. Since it is a serious matter she gets more of that 'game face' back as she prepares to do this. That softens though as she has to think: "What should I say exactly?" Thinking about that has her processor running. "I know every depot, every safehouse, the entire workings of the N.P.D." It hits her what kind fo asset that could mean for the rebels. should she be worried that this could be the only reason Hot Rod is willing to have her around? Should she... Primus, his face looks so much better undented again. "What was I... oh right. I'm *in*," she asserts. Hot Rod considers her question for a moment, and then, slowly, he says, "You should tell the truth." He grins. "Easy, right?" It's true: he looks so much better without the impression of Patdown's head thunked into his. Patdown is stupid. DOWN WITH PATDOWN. The smile fades into a thoughtful expression which quickly lights with enthusiasm. "We'll need to move fast to capitalize on that before they change too much. Between you and Ricochet--." The eagerness spills over. Hot Rod moves restlessly, then grabs Arsenal by the arm to pull out. "Come on. I'll get Rewind to meet us and we'll record the statement first, then start planning what to do with the depos and the rest. Do you have the NPD's radio frequencies? They'll change them, I'm sure, but stay tuned in as long as you can." Oh. My. Primus. Arsenal is never going to oil soak that arm again. She's BIG, right? Yet, light as a feather (whatever that is) she floats along with Hot Rod. "It's not like they have a great many resources," she says, letting that cat (again, what is such a thing?) out of the bag. "So they can't really move much around or lock down other frequencies. I mean, I think they're still looking for a comms expert so yeah, totally tuned in." She smiles. Yay, she's useful already! "Rewind. Truth. Got it." She can do that. Arse is going to assume that Rod wants her to tell *everything*. If she gets taken out in the field then this record Rewind is going to make can serve after she's gone. That's sensible. "They don't?" Hot Rod gives a vulpine smile. "Well, let's see if we can't /discourage/ them, then." Hot Rod tilts his head and sends a comm ahead to summon Rewind. He's not long on the street: he just crosses to the alley where there's an access to the tunnels below. "We take the tunnels when we can to avoid the sky spies -- and a lot more surveillance now, I guess," he explains. "I'll make sure that you won't have a problem with our usual paths. Rewind says he'll meet us just up ahead. We'll record and then distribute, let people know what really happened." Midway down the tunnel, Hot Rod glances back. "Oh, and Arsenal? Thanks. We're glad to have you." Category:Cops and Rebels